The Phoenix:  Flight of the Black Dog
by NezziGunn
Summary: Severus must protect the dark lords' best kept secret, even if it means the end of the world.
1. Chapter 1

The Phoenix

Chapter 1

Beauty and the Jobberknoll

He looked up from his desk and gazed, no, it was definitely a glare, down upon his class of seventh years. He did not mind his final period. These students were mostly Slytherin, and both head girl and boy of Slytherin house were in the room, keeping the other students in line, which left him very little to do other than teach. His features softened as his eyes fell upon the head girl. She was quiet. She was reclusive and studious. In fact, until this year he had failed to notice her, much like all the others. She rarely spoke, but she did not seem to need to in order to keep the girls in line. And she was quite pretty. Beautiful, really. Her sun-kissed skin, hair auburn with glints of red and gold that shone when the light hit it-just so. Her eyes, slightly hooded and a deep, deep blue that almost looked black. Surrounding the iris were streaks of gold, resembling the rays of the sun which extended from the blackness. He caught himself staring at her for longer than he intended. He quickly looked around the room to be sure no one had taken notice, and being reassured, he set back to grading papers. The booming bell sounded throughout the castle and its grounds, signaling the end of class. Professor Snape let out a sigh, which sounded slightly heavier than intended, and stole a glance at his house's head girl's backside as she turned to gather her things. He intended to follow her with his eyes as she walked out the door, but she turned back around and began advancing towards his desk. His eyebrow raised involuntarily as she leaned ever-so-slightly over his desk. He gave a quick glance around the room to find that the last of the students had left. Only she remained. She held in her hand her textbook, she was looking down at it and had appeared not to notice his leering. He noticed just then that that was exactly what he was doing. He frowned at the pang of guilt he felt. He knew all about the poor girl's past, and still had the audacity to see her in that light? What kind of man was he?

"Professor?", She turned the book around so he did not have to view it upside down.

He simply raised his brow to let her know she had his attention. 'Perhaps more of it than she had anticipated.', he thought.

"The textbook says that the Mandrake Restorative Draught returns people who have been Transfigured or cursed to their original state, right?", he watched her and gave a slight nod in agreement, "Well, I was just wondering…" His eyebrow lifted once more, "Since the instructions for producing the potion aren't in this particular text, can you give me the reference for a book that does include it?". Snape leaned back in his chair. His shoulders relaxed. "Miss Melor, had it occurred to you to search the library, rather than waste my time? I've half a mind to give you detention. Perhaps grading first year students' monotonous and unimpressive essays would deter you from doing so in the future?", he inquired. She paused, but only momentarily as she could not allow her curiosity, it was more of a necessity, to be snuffed out with an empty threat. He had _never_ given her detention, and she highly doubted he would do so, as she had waited to ask him in private. All of her questions were asked in private. Asking questions that might seem stupid or not included in the curriculum in front of the other students is what warranted detention. Especially in a double class such as this one, which included Gryffindors. "Yes, sir. I looked not only in the library here… but also in my grandfather's library in Gwynedd." He had been to the castle at Gwynedd. He knew how extensive the old man's collection was, and had included a great number of rare, often very dangerous volumes. He was an infamous potions master, now senile, demented, and a recluse. He showed interest at the mention of the coveted library. She knew he would. She was rather hoping he would give her the instructions on how to make the potion in exchange for a chance at visiting such a place. "Of course not. He would have no need for such a thing. Perhaps you should ask Professor Mcgonagall about it." She frowned. She had such a lovely pout. Her lips seemed fuller and her high cheekbones were more evident. Her eyes were ever so slightly teary with frustration. Not enough for anyone to notice, except that he had been taking notice of many things he perhaps should not. "I did. She referred me to you. I promise I would not have bothered you had I not exhausted every possible resource. I'm sorry, sir. I really didn't mean to be a bother." Feeling she would not get what she had come for, she clutched the book to her chest and turned to leave. He caught her sleeve as she took her first step towards the door. "Wait." His voice was tempered with intrigue, and what could be confused with...lust? Had she not know better, of course. His deep, smooth, throaty bellow was seductive and misleading. She was sure he never meant to sound that way. It was simply part of his disposition. She stopped dead in her tracks. He came around the desk, and approached her from behind. He placed his hands on her shoulders and whispered throatily into her ear, "You forgot what you came for, Miss Melor." She closed her eyes and let out an involuntary whine of frustration. He paused, trying not to notice the oh so slight, soft and high-pitched moan. He simply couldn't think of her this way. He was, after all, all she had. The only one she had ever been able to rely on. Especially after he discovered her patronage. He shook it off. He took a step back, allowing his hands to linger as they lightly ran down her arms. He left her there, eyes closed, breath shallow and hands shaking. She heard the footfalls as his heavy boots made contact with the stone floor. She heard the door to his office, followed by the sound of his footsteps as he approached her once more from behind.

He reached around and held the small book in front of her. She only felt his arms wrap around her and his chest on her back as he leaned forward. She squeezed her eyes shut further, her breathing was heady and she still hugged the textbook to her chest, her fingers turning white from her fierce grip. She could feel his breath on her neck and didn't know how much more she could take. 'Just do it already,' she thought.

He inhaled deeply. She smelled so sweet, of Jasmine and clary sage. Her smooth hair felt so soft on his cheek. Her sweet breaths smelled sweet, like strawberry ice cream, but what caught his attention more so was the sounds she was making. Soft, sweet notes rose from her chest, struggling to escape in a familiar, enticing song. He hated to interrupt such an enchanting aria, but knew he could tease her no further, for fear or the consequences, and her innocence. He just wanted to take her, his sweet Rosalyn, right there in the dungeon.

"Here. Take what you need from it. Just remember to return it…eventually." She opened her eyes and saw the tome. She took it, stacking it with her textbook and hugged them to herself. She turned around slowly, hesitant. She was faced with his chest, then she looked up slowly, noting his strong chin, thin lips, the breath from which smelled of spearmint and lapsang souchong tea. Her gaze hovered there a moment, needing to swallow suddenly when thoughts of kissing him raced through her mind. She finally worked up the courage to look him in the eye. "Thank you." It was barely more than a whisper. He felt the words touch his face like a soft, sweet wind. And no sooner had the words left her lips had he turned and was walking away from her, returning to his previous task of grading papers. She stood for a moment, then nodded in disbelief to no one in particular, huffed harshly then left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: It is highly improbable that any cats were molested in the writing of this fanfic.**

Chapter 2:

School's Out for Summer

Dinner that night was clamorous. It was the night before summer holiday, and everyone was excited and discussing their plans. Well, almost everyone. Rosalyn sat and stared at her plate, poking at a pea while she listened to Millicent and Daphne argue over which one of their holiday trips was more luxurious and exciting. She sighed gently when her plans for the holiday had come to mind. Sit and read in the library, take long baths in the prefects oversized tub, sit and read by the lake, try to convince Hagrid to let her ride the Pegasus she saw him sneak through the woods a few nights ago, sit and read under her favorite chittering cherry tree, and most importantly-avoid Professor Snape. She shuddered to think of the events that had just taken place. Out of fear of anything actually developing there, she had decided to prevent any feelings from welling up by ignoring him, and avoiding being in the same room as the man alone-ever, if possible. His eyes burned her right cheek, as she could feel his gaze upon it. She touched it a moment before returning her attention to her charges.

"-And I am going to buy the most expensive thing I can find there!" She heard Millicent bragging. "Well _I_ am visiting our manor in the French Alps. Father says when I come of age it is mine, and so I should choose servants and the like beforehand. I am to have my own household at the end of the year!", Daphne boasted. Rosalyn rolled her eyes, not that anyone noticed. She waited the usual fifteen minutes of torturous rack before retiring early 'to bed'. No one noticed as she got up to leave, save Draco Malfoy, who said nothing, but followed her out the door with his eyes. There was something about her that made him very, very uncomfortable.

"I'm going to Paris with my parents for a week. My father is speaking at a Dentistry convention, and I am quite looking forward to it.", Hermione almost gloated. Ron rolled his eyes. She always did sound so pompous.

"Looking forward to what-Paris or listening to a room of people talk about teeth for a week?"

Hermione sneered at Ron, then turned her attention to Harry, placing a hand gently on his shoulder, as if to get Ron riled up.

"And you, Harry, what are your plans for the Summer?"

"I dunno. Hadn't thought about it really. I suppose I'll just hang out with Sirius, spend some time at the burrow. Are you gonna visit the burrow when you return from Paris?", Harry already knew the answer, but, taking note of Ron's face growing as red as his hair, was making an attempt to cool the flames and prevent an uncomfortable situation from becoming a painful one-for Ron, and for his ears. Hermione could screech like a harpy when she went on her rants.

"Of course.", was all she said, avoiding eye contact with Ron, while he was glaring holes through her. Harry looked up at the staff table.

"Hey, have you noticed lately that Snape has looked even more put off than usual?", Harry inquired. The all snuck a peek simultaneously, he had been looking rather rough.

"He's probably just upset that he forgot to take points away from Gryffindor today. I'm sure he'll make up for it later. Look at the man-he's brooding! I can't wait to go home, I can't stand the greasy, grotty git." Ron wore a look of utter disgust on his face, and continued to stare at Professor Snape as if the man had just used a killing curse on his dog. Hermione fumed. She wanted to defend him, but she was also convinced that he was a death eater. The evidence against him was conclusive and insurmountable. She only wished Dumbledore could see it. But she felt sorry for him, on some level, and hated it when they called him 'greasy'. She wanted to smile, just a bit, when they called him a 'git', due to the tinge of jealousy towards the professor to which it inferred.

Snape had certainly been distracted lately. His mind kept wandering back to her. He wondered why he had never taken notice of her previously. She had always been beautiful. Perhaps he was less afraid than he was before, due to Voldemort's increasing senility which would lead to his eventual demise. An end which, he felt, was drawing near. He was staring at her, he knew. It was bothering her. She had failed to take even one bite of her meal, simply rearranging the items on her plate. He thought, perhaps, he had gone too far. He was startled as she suddenly stood to leave, not speaking a word to any of her fellow Slytherins, but then again, that was not unusual.

He was upset to see her go, but he admitted, to his inner pervert only, that he did enjoy the subtle sway of her hips as she made her way out of the dining hall.

As soon as the door slammed shut, his attention returned to his plate, on temporarily, as his face suddenly felt flush, and he looked up in search of the cause. And there it was. Weasley. Staring him down like he had been caught molesting the household cat. Surely that bloody berk hadn't the nerve to stare him down like that while he had his wits about him? Now he had to worry about being followed, and he would make sure to provide extra wards to his rooms and supply closet tonight before he left to see The Dark Lord. He returned the glare tenfold, sending Ronald flying back out of his chair.

"Bloody hell, Ronald! Do you have to be such a barmpot? What's wrong with you?", Harry shirked his shoulders up in a failed attempt to cover his ears. 'Here comes the harpy…', he thought.

"On second thought, maybe I'll forgo the stay at the burrow. I wouldn't want Ronald's idiocy to rub off on me!", and with that she stormed out of the dining hall in full pout.

"You'd better go talk to her, mate. You really cocked-up this time, I'm afraid." Ronald looked shamefully at Harry.

"I can't help it. Just look at him! The creepy bloke is up to something, I know it.", Ron leaned forward over the table to whisper to Harry, eyes intend and gestured to his own eyes. "I can see it in his eyes." Harry resisted the urge to look back at Snape, knowing full well his eyes were still on Ron.

"Even if he is, Ron, you can't be so obvious that we suspect him, I mean, if we are ever going to prove that he is-you know-loyal to Voldemort, we are going to need proof. We're not going to find it if he knows that we are trying to implicate him." Ron sat back and simply nodded.

"C'mon, I still need to pack." Ron agreed in silence and followed him out.

**Author****'s rant: How fun does a dentistry convention sound? I know I'm game! And I suppose Avada Kedavra is the wizard equivalent of vehicular man/dog slaughter. I had noticed that JK in fact HAD neglected to give us a proper female Slytherin character, one that was not a bint or spoiled brat (Although Draco is close!) so I went ahead and inserted such a creature of my own creation. Mwahahahahaha. But, in her defense, she created an entire world, surprisingly detailed at that, without being strung out on any mind-altering drugs (to the best of my knowledge.) The same cannot be said of previous authors who created their own worlds. Opium-smoking (C'mon, we all know hooka doesn't make you that happy…) and bright, shiny large mushrooms in Alice and Wonderland? Subtle show of gratitude to Lewish Carroll's inspiration. That's the most popular example I can think of. Read on, kiddies! Since I cannot rely on such a muse to bring me up-to fame(as Child Protective Services frowns upon that sort of thing) I must leech off of the greats. Happy Hunting, children. **


End file.
